


The Beginning

by Redembe



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redembe/pseuds/Redembe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how I imagine a relationship might have started between Dembe and Red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted to create a realistic timeline and to make the details of the story line up as closely with known cannon as possible. As always they don't belong to me and I make no money. Feedback is welcome.

**Part 1**

**The Rescue**

**South Sudan 1996**

Mr. Reddington stepped gingerly over the dead body of one of the traffickers killed by his team, the smell of blood, piss and shit was strong in the air now. It probably said something about him that it barely registered anymore. It probably said something that he didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about.

“What should we do with all these kids, boss?” One of his men asked, gesturing at the tight huddle of young boys and girls trembling in one filthy corner of the now defunct brothel.

Raymond sighed. His original plan had not included any thoughts of rescuing innocents. Altruism wasn’t his strongest character trait. When he turned his gaze on them they cowered back away from him, eyes wide and staring but strangely silent. His teeth clenched at the thought of what sorts of horrors these little ones had been forced to endure.

“The authorities are useless,” he said, thinking of the rampant corruption and civil unrest in the region. “But we can’t leave them here.”

More of his men had drifted into the room. He watched the children as they attempted to track the movements of so many English-speaking strangers in their midst.

“There was a Catholic orphanage back in Juba,” Mahoud supplied, looking uneasy. None of these men were particularly paternal. “They might have a chance at finding what families still remain and at least they would have somewhere to live without being tossed out into the streets.”

“It would put us two days behind to back-track to the capital but I really don’t see any other obvious options. I don’t like their chances in a South Sudanese orphanage though…” Raymond trailed off in a rare moment of indecision.

“How about I take three men with me,” Mahoud suggested, “and we can hire a supply truck to take us and the kids to Juba? That would free you up to meet your next contact on time.”

Raymond considered this plan briefly. After quickly debating several other less appealing options, he nodded. “Let’s get moving then. We’ve drawn too much attention to ourselves already.”

Mahoud, the only man in their party who spoke the local dialect, approached the frightened children slowly, slinging his weapon across his back to appear less threatening. Another left quickly to locate a truck large enough to carry and conceal their party. His team worked quickly, communicating in gestures and shorthand to save time, their experience in these matters clearly coming in handy when adaptation was necessary. Only the best for Raymond Reddington.

In no time the children were herded reluctantly into the back of a tarp-covered truck with a small contingent of men. Their obvious emotional and physical shock made them easier to handle but Raymond hoped that they might get at least some decent care at the large orphanage in the capital city. At the very least they should be relatively safe from any further exploitation among the kind sisters who worked there.

Raymond watched until the vehicle disappeared around a corner in the hard-packed dirt road that ran between the ramshackle buildings in the small city. Time to move on.

“BOSS!”

A shout from inside had him moving quickly back into the bowels of the building. When he reached one of the back rooms he found two of his remaining men standing next to an upturned cot. They both had their weapons trained at the floor. At first, Raymond didn’t see it, but after his eyes adjusted once more to the hazy gloom he could clearly make out where the old boards had been sawn.

“I thought you searched this place!” He glared angrily at them.

“We did, man!” One of them defended. “There was NO indication of a lower level. Henderson heard a noise back here so we were just checking it out. Turned out it was just a bat that flew in through the window but when we knocked the cot over we discovered this.”

“Sloppy,” Red proclaimed, frowning. “But nothing for it now. Get Brightman and Miller back in here and see what’s down there. If any of these bastards escaped through a tunnel they’re well on their way to alerting the Cartel.”

“Yes sir,” Henderson replied, all business.

The ‘basement’ if one could call it that, turned out to be no more than a cramped, stinking hole in the ground. Luckily there were no more Cartel lackeys hiding in its depths and no back exit. The only things they found were some old building materials and several piles of old, moldy blankets.

“Check them,” Red ordered, indicating the piles of cloth. “Let’s not compound carelessness into stupidity, shall we?”

Brightman took point and Mitchel covered him while the other two hung back at the ready, watching the stacks of cloth that remained unchecked. Brightman carefully lifted one of the pieces with the barrel of his rifle, moving it to the side. The remaining pile was small and showed no signs of habitation. He looked back at Red questioningly. Red nodded. Brightman fired a quick burst into the remaining blankets. There was no sign that he’d hit anything living but if he HAD it was certainly alive no longer. They moved on to the second pile. Wash, rinse, repeat; nothing. These men were too well-trained to be completely confident that the last pile would produce similar results, but the air of tension in the room had certainly lessened. Everyone’s ears were ringing from the gunfire in the small, enclosed space and they were ready to get the hell out of the stinking, hot closeness of the brothel.

Brightman hadn’t even touched the third pile of blankets before all hell broke loose. Suddenly, the mercenary all but disappeared underneath a swirling, screaming, dervish covered in dirty cloth. The report of the rifle echoed again in the small space. The remaining three men and Reddington all drew their weapons and aimed them at the screaming mass but between the dimness of the room, the interference of the blanket and the general chaos no one wanted to fire and risk hitting Brightman.

 _There_ , Raymond thought, _that sound._ “Wait!” He shouted. “Hold your fire! Stand down!”

It was a credit to their trust in him and their strict training that the other three men only hesitated briefly at the order. However, he noticed that though they lowered their weapons, their stances remained alert.

By then the blanket had mostly been lost to the floor and the two dusty figures grappling in the dirt began to make more sense. Brightman had abandoned his rifle in favor of restraining a very angry, very skinny young boy. The noise of the chain around the boy’s ankle could now clearly be heard over his grunting and screaming. Brightman had managed to wrap both arms around the wiry child and restrain his upper body but his stick-thin legs continued to churn up dust as he kicked and spat and growled like an animal. He was completely naked.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Raymond sighed. “And we sent the bloody translator with the rest of them.”

“What do you want me to do, boss?” Brightman grunted as the child’s chin managed to connect with his jaw. “This damn kid is stronger than he looks.”

Slowly, Red moved forward and gingerly unclipped the strap on Brightman’s weapon. He handed the rifle to Henderson and said, “You three wait upstairs with Hicks. Send someone if there’s trouble. We’ll be up shortly.”

The three men exchanged looks but followed his order.

It seemed the boy’s energy was beginning to wane. No big surprise considering his obviously malnourished state.

“You can let him go now,” Raymond said, returning his pistol to its holster under his jacket.

Brightman gave him a skeptical look but managed to extricate himself from the floor and a tangle of skinny, dirty limbs with only a few minor bruises given by flailing fists. He backed away quickly as the boy exploded from the ground, lunging at the two men until he was jerked up short by the chain holding him. Raymond swept his gaze quickly over the child’s body, noting countless long-healed scars and his hollow-eyed hysteria, but his gaze stopped on the sturdy eye-bolt holding the chain to one of the building’s huge structural support beams. The chain was attached by an old-fashioned manacle to the boy’s ankle with an ancient-looking padlock. Either they were going to have to restrain him again or they were going to have to find a way to communicate their intentions so the boy would let them remove the restraint.

The boy had ceased his struggling and was now just standing warily at the end of his tether, watching them. “Stand back here,” he instructed Brightman, “and don’t make any sudden moves.” Brightman was too professional to roll his eyes but the look they exchanged held a note of consternation.

Unconcerned with some paid mercenary’s opinion of him, Raymond turned his attention to the child. There was a chance, although slim, that he may understand a bit of English. Most people in the large cities knew enough to get by and many of the brothel’s patrons likely spoke some. He approached slowly, stopping just short of the boy’s reach.

“Raymond,” he said, putting his hand on his chest. “You?” He asked, pointing to the boy.

At the movement of his arm, the boy jumped back, hissing like a scared cat, but he made no reply.

“Friend.” Raymond said, spreading his arms at his sides, indicating that he had no weapons in his hands.

The boy’s eyes narrowed skeptically and his lips drew back from his teeth in a silent snarl.

 _Hmmm, perhaps the boy understands more than he lets on_ , Raymond thought.

“Free?” He asked, pointing to the chain. “We want to help.” He added.

Still no response but the boy’s stance relaxed fractionally, his hands unclenching and his face relaxing a bit.

Raymond continued to advance slowly and the boy continued to retreat. Brightman shifted uneasily but Ray gestured for him to stay where he was. Slowly, Ray began to reach into his inside jacket pocket. He watched as the boy tensed again but he withdrew the small zippered case before the boy could decide to attack.

“See,” he said, opening the case and holding it out to the child. The boy’s eyes flicked quickly to its contents and back up to Raymond’s face. “No hurt you,” he added. “Free.” He repeated as he continued to approach.

Slowly, he knelt down on the floor _(guess I can kiss another $5,000 suit goodbye)_ and reached out towards the boy’s ankle.

“Boss,” he heard the note of anxiety in the Brightman’s voice but ignored him.

He could hear the boy’s heavy, panicked breathing but continued his slow approach, finally touching the lock attached to the manacle. He lifted it gently, trying not to jostle the manacle against newly torn and bleeding skin. The boy shifted his weight and Ray tensed but it seemed he was only moving his foot slightly towards his would-be rescuer.

“That’s it,” Ray crooned, “good boy. We want to help.”

It took a bit of finesse, but finally the old lock gave way to his superior skill and patience. Ray carefully replaced his picks in their case and returned it to his pocket before removing the lock from the manacle and gently prizing it from around the boy’s ankle. Slowly he backed away again and stood.

“See? Free!” He said, pointing to where the old chain was laying abandoned on the dirty floor.

He should have known no good deed goes unpunished. His last thought before the back of his head smacked firmly into the ground was that the kid certainly was a _lot_ stronger than he looked.

He came to on the grubby cot in the room above the basement hole. His goddamn head _hurt_. He groaned loudly and Brightman’s frowning face came into focus above him.

“He got you good, boss,” the hired man said.

Ray ran his hand down behind his head, feeling a rather large lump on his scalp. When he withdrew his hand he was at least pleased that there was no blood. He tried to sit up but the room swam dangerously and he slumped back down.

“Go slow, Mr. Reddington, you probably have a concussion,” Henderson said from the doorway.

“Where’s the kid?” He asked as he rolled slowly to his side, testing his range of movement.

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re wondering,” Brightman griped.

“Where _is_ he?” Raymond repeated irritably. He didn’t need to be reminded that he’d taken what was possibly a very stupid risk.

“We put him in restraints and secured him in the truck,” Henderson said. “Took three of us to get him under control. What the hell are we gonna do with this wild-ass kid, boss? We’ve got a flight scheduled in less than twelve hours.”

“I am aware of the schedule, Henderson,” Ray replied, sitting up slowly and holding his aching head in his hands. “Why don’t you let me worry about the kid, huh? Just get us the hell out of this city.”

“Yes, sir,” Henderson replied, turning on his heel and disappearing down the corridor.

Three hours later their beat-up old Humvee was bumping along what could generously be called a dirt track between one village and another. They were scheduled to meet Raymond’s charter jet at a secluded air strip in the middle of the jungle in less than ten hours and they were making piss-poor time. Conducting this mission during the monsoon season meant that many of the roads were either flooded or washed away completely and the ones that were considered passable had ruts that threatened to swallow the entire front end of their truck. Twice they’d had to stop and push the huge vehicle through knee-deep mud. They were all covered in muck, mired in frustration and thoroughly exhausted.

They had propped the boy up in the back seat between two men. His wrists and ankles were held by zip ties and the seat-belt was being employed more for their safety than his. He hadn’t made a single noise since they set out, just sat there glaring red death at anyone who chanced to look at him. They had managed to find a pair of threadbare pants laying around the brothel so he was at least covered from the waist down. This had not been accomplished easily.

Ray sat in the seat directly in front of the boy and contemplated their dilemma. They knew nothing about him yet there was something compelling there. His fighting spirit spoke to something inside Reddington, and he was convinced the boy understood more English than he was letting on.

Ray reached down between his feet and pulled a canteen of water from his duffle bag. He unscrewed the top and swiveled in his seat, making sure the boy watched him take a long drink.

“Water?” He offered, extending the canteen so that it hovered mere inches away from the boy’s mouth. The youth glared suspiciously at him but he could see the thirst there too. The truck bounced across a large bump and a few drops splashed from the mouth of the bottle onto the boy’s chest. He licked his dusty, dry lips. “It’s safe,” Ray said softly, nudging the canteen forward another inch.

Keeping his eyes trained on Ray’s face, the boy leaned forward, closing the couple inches of space between his mouth and the lip of the bottle. Ray carefully tipped it back, letting a few swallows flow into the boy’s mouth. He pulled the canteen back slowly and the child grunted, leaning forward as much as the seat belt and his restraints would allow.

“Easy,” Ray said, “too much at once will make you sick.”

Henderson, sitting to the boy’s left, snorted. “He doesn’t understand a word you’re saying, boss. What are you gonna do with this kid? He’s not much more than a wild animal. You planning on smuggling him into the states? You’re gonna need some handcuffs and a strong tranquilizer to manage him on your own.”

Red gave the other man a withering look. “He understands more than you think. Most people in the Sudan know some English. It would’ve been virtually impossible for him not to have picked up some basic words and phrases. And I think he’s a lot smarter than any beast. Possibly smarter than you, Henderson. He had the nerve to stay quiet and still under those blankets and strike and just the right moment. He got the drop on _me_ even.”

Henderson rolled his eyes at his employer’s criticism. It really wasn’t any of his business what the man wanted to do with some half-starved African wild-child, except that it might impede his own chances of making it out of this third-world hell alive.

“There’s something about him,” Red added, more to himself than for the benefit of his men.

He offered the boy some more water periodically but there was no more conversation for a while. The canteen was mostly empty and the boy had managed to keep down all of the water he’d drunk. Ray again reached into his bag, rooting around until he came up with a half-eaten granola bar. He peeled back the wrapper and held it across the back of his seat.

“Hungry?” He asked.

The boy pursed his lips and turned his head sideways.

Ray grinned a bit and shook his head. “It’s safe.” He took a bite himself, chewing and swallowing so the boy could see that food wasn’t poisoned.

“You gonna taste all his food for him, Red?” Brightman asked, chuckling. “Maybe we ought to be calling him Your Highness.”

“Shut up, Brightman,” Red responded. “I’m trying to get him to trust me.”

The boy seemed to follow this exchange closely as he leaned forward and took a small nibble off the end of the granola bar. Apparently deciding that he liked the food, he leaned forward again and bit off a huge chunk, catching a bit of the wrapper in his haste. Quickly removing the rest of the plastic covering, Ray fed him the rest of the bar before offering what was left of the water. When the last of it was gone, Ray watched as the youth tipped his head back, sighing deeply. His whole body seemed to be less tense. Finally, he raised his head and looked directly into Ray’s eyes.

“Thank you,” the boy said, his voice rough.

“You’re very welcome,” Ray replied, smiling widely and breathing a sigh of relief. “Do you think we could take those restraints off you now?” He added, hoping the boy understood enough to comprehend.

His brow furrowed briefly as he worked out the meaning of the words he knew. Slowly, he nodded his head.

“You’re not going to try and hurt us again?” Ray clarified.

A slight shake of his head.

“Do it,” he told Henderson.

“Boss, I don’t think…” Before Ray could interrupt he went on. “If he bolts out here it’ll be hell catching him again and he’ll die in the bush if he tries to run.”

“He won’t run,” Ray said with confidence, “Will you?” He turned his piercing gaze once again on the child. They locked eyes briefly in mutual respect. The child shook his head again.

Ray nodded at Henderson, “Go ahead, he says he’ll be good.”

Henderson snorted skeptically but pulled his knife from his boot anyway. At the sight of the blade the boy tensed but a look from Ray seemed to steady him. Brightman watched warily as the other mercenary reached slowly down to the boy’s ankles and slid the knife easily through the plastic tie. It dropped away to the floor of the truck and the child wiggled his feet experimentally, stretching his legs as far as the small space would allow.

“Thank you,” he said again and without being prompted he leaned forward to allow Henderson to sever the tie binding his hands behind his back as well. When his arms were free he brought his hands around to rub the chaffed places on his wrists and the feeling back into his hands.

“Better?” Ray asked.

“Thank you,” the boy repeated again, giving Ray a tentative nod.

“Raymond,” Ray said, again placing his hand on his own chest. He wanted to find out the boy’s name and possibly if he still had family in the area but he needed to get him talking so he would know exactly how easy it would be to communicate. “You?” He asked, pointing at the child.

There was a moment of tense silence as the boy glanced from one man to another. Finally, he placed his own small hand on his sternum and mumbled, “Dembe.”

“Dembe,” Ray repeated. Cautiously, he held out his right hand, it hovered between them for a few moments and he wondered if the boy would take it.

After what felt like an infinite few minutes Ray watched as Dembe’s hand moved cautiously towards his. Callouses slid against callouses and their hands met between the two seats. He clasped Dembe’s hand in his, squeezing gently. “It is very nice to meet you, Dembe.” As their eyes met over their clasped hands, he saw Dembe smile for the first time.

 

**Part 2**

**Fight or Flight**

**New York City, June 1998**

“I hate that place!” Dembe’s angry shout was accompanied by the emphatic and very loud slamming of the heavy apartment door.

Ray sighed and turned away from his desk in time to see the scowling face of his young ward appear around the corner of his study. Before he could interject to ask what has happened _this time_ , the teenager continued.

“The kids there are all stuck-up assholes! I have to work four times as hard as any of them _and_ I’m smarter and they _still_ get treated like fucking royalty. Why can’t I go to a regular school? I hate being stuck there with all those rich kids! I promise if you let me go to public school I’ll get straight A’s and never complain about being left with a ‘sitter’ when you travel. I swear, Raymond! You can’t make me go back there again next month I’ll go crazy!” Finally the diatribe wound down and Dembe fetched up next to Ray’s desk, his hands on his hips, face twisted into an angry sneer.

“May I speak now?” Raymond asked calmly.

Dembe flushed hotly, not for the first time infinitely grateful for his dark complexion. Every time Ray took the wind out of his sails this way he felt like a child. And he desperately wanted to show his guardian that he was emphatically _not_ a child. He was 16 years old now and he’d seen more in his short life than any of those stupid brats at his school. He certainly didn’t _feel_ 16\. He wanted to be like his mentor, cool calm and collected no matter _what_ was happening around him. Maybe if Ray saw him as an adult he would let him make more of his own choices (especially about where he should get his education).

“Let me see your grade report.” The apparent non-sequitur threw Dembe for a moment. He was happy that his first official year of high school was over but he was apprehensive about showing Raymond his marks. Having to make up for nine years of schooling in a little over a year to be classed as a freshmen at 15 had been brutal. He’d done it though, much to his mentor’s pride. It helped that Raymond seemed to have limitless resources to hire the best tutors and therapists available. He’d spent his first year in the states simply learning how to function in the world and not make a total ass of himself. Still, even with all that work, he was finding the classes at the Cheshire Academy much more challenging than working with private tutors.

“It’s in my bag,” he responded, trying to delay.

“Well, why don’t you go get it?” There was an implacable tone in Ray’s voice that couldn’t be ignored.

Dembe sighed and trudged back out of the study to find his book bag where he’d thrown it onto the foyer floor. He brought the bag back into the study, sitting down on the comfortable settee. Raymond came around his desk to sit beside him while he dug the printed paper out of his bag. He handed it over with a shrug. He had learned early on that Raymond did not like excuses or explanations when evidence could speak for itself. He began to squirm a bit as the older man examined the report closely. Finally, Ray lowered the paper to his lap, giving his protégé a measured look.

“Have I ever told you about the time I was held prisoner by FDLR guerrillas in the Congo?”

Dembe’s ears perked up, his school troubles momentarily forgotten. One of the things he liked best about knowing Raymond Reddington were his stories. He had no idea if what Ray said was true or not but there was no doubt that the older man had had some pretty incredible adventures even though he was only 27. He knew that Ray had been in some sort of Special Forces branch of the military (although the other man was purposely vague about that time in his life) and he also suspected that Red had spent a period of time in the intelligence community as well. The stories he told made him sound bigger than life. Dembe’s therapist was continually cautioning him about his hero worship but he really couldn’t help himself. Who _wouldn’t_ want to hang on this man’s every word, to model themselves after such an intelligent, courageous and powerful man?

“It was early in my military career and our mission was to take out some militant guerrilla leader or other… Anyway, my team had fallen victim to an ambush in the jungle. They killed everyone but me. I spent almost three months in their camp before I could convince them to let me go.”

“How did you convince them?” Dembe asked. The FDLR was not known for releasing prisoners alive.

“I played chess.” Raymond answered, a small smile moving across his face. For a moment the older man seemed to be locked in a memory. Dembe waited patiently for him to finish the story. “They kept me tied hand and foot to tree under heavy guard most of the time. The only one of them who spoke passable English was their leader, a small wiry little man who they called Captain (I never knew his real name). And you know how abysmal my knowledge of African dialects is.” Dembe nodded in confirmation. “Well it was _worse_ back then!” Once again he drifted off, expression changing fleetingly as he recalled the memories.

“Well it turns out this Captain enjoyed a good game of chess but none of his men had the patience to really learn the game. What he wanted was a challenge, you see. He got tired of always winning! The rebels weren’t overly vicious with me. In fact I was largely ignored unless they were tending to my basic care. Sometimes I think I would’ve liked some light torture to break up the monotony. But I digress. One morning, Captain had set up his chess board very near where I was tied. He seemed pensive and I was looking for a distraction from the endless hours of nothing but buzzing insects and sore muscles.

‘I play,’ I said to him.

He looked at me, perhaps surprised that I had spoken to him or that I knew he spoke English.

‘You any good?’ He asked me.

‘We could find out,’ I replied.

At any rate, to make a longer story short, we spent some three weeks together in that jungle playing chess. It turned out that he was more than a competent player. In fact we were rather evenly matched. Then one day I noticed that after our game he left my legs untied and when one of his men questioned him he dismissed the other man’s concerns. Days later I found myself completely unfettered. Our daily games took on an air of friendly competition. He spoke to me about his family and shared stories of his days as a young boy.”

“You became friends?!” Dembe interrupted, eyebrows raised in shock.

“It is not as far-fetched as it seems, Dembe,” Raymond said. “When presented with an unfortunate but unescapable situation, sometimes it is easier to see how it can be endured rather than dwelling on how impossible everything is.”

Dembe frowned. “So what you’re saying is… I should look for ways to _like_ where I’m at because I don’t have a choice about it?”

Raymond responded with an enigmatic shrug.

“But how is that _fair_?” Dembe exploded out of his seat, waving his arms in frustration.

“My dear boy,” Raymond chided, “you of all people should know how ridiculous that statement is.”

And he felt his face burn again. “So how _did_ you escape from the rebels?” He asked, to distract himself from his embarrassment.

“Ah, yes. Well, one evening Captain said to me, ‘Raymond, you have shown yourself to be a man of honor. I cannot see how I can make you my prisoner when you have done nothing to offend myself or my people.’ And the next day they walked me out of that jungle and into the nearest village. Much to the chagrin, I might add, of the rest of his soldiers!” He chuckled to himself at the memory.

“Dembe,” Raymond continued, “I enrolled you in that school because I truly believe that it is the best place for you. Do not let your perceived differences keep you from seeing all of the ways you can use this opportunity to your advantage. This,” Raymond indicated the grade report again by waving the paper in front of Dembe’s nose, “certainly indicates to me that I’ve made the right choice. You should be proud of these marks, Dembe. Only two years ago you could barely speak an entire sentence in English! Now you are making A’s in your literature class and learning two other new languages to boot! I couldn’t be prouder of you than if you _were_ my own son!”

This time Dembe’s flush was the result of the nice warm feeling he got whenever Raymond sang his praises. He wanted so much for this man to be proud of him, to _want_ him around and to think of him as an equal. He wished he could be less weighed down by his past and his childhood of abuse. It seemed like he would never be truly free of it. He vowed to try harder to see what Raymond saw in him and to be worthy of the other man’s admiration. You only have three more years, he reminded himself. Then you can _truly_ show him how much of an adult you are.

 

**Part 3**

**Boys Like You**

**Cheshire Academy**

**Cheshire, Connecticut**

**December 2000**

The sleek, black town car pulled up almost soundlessly in front of the large, red brick building that loomed at the front of the school complex. The driver shifted the car into park but left it idling.

“We’re here, Mr. Reddington, would you like me to go in and get him?”

“No, Yves, I’ll brave the cold in a moment. I just want to finish up some business first.” If he was honest with himself, Red would admit that having a teenager in his life had certainly made him work less. For the past four years he had focused much of his attention on Dembe’s acclimation and education. He couldn’t believe that the young man was already finishing his first semester of his junior year in High School. The first year at Cheshire seemed to be the hardest on him, but he’d eventually found his way. Now it seemed that he had a good group of friends, was excelling on the Lacrosse team and was even impressing his teachers with his high marks. Red hoped that a surprise trip to Italy might be just the thing to relieve some of the stress the young man was feeling with his academics this year. Red made a silent promise to himself and Dembe that he wouldn’t let work intrude on their holiday. It was Christmas after all and he had made it a point to make all of Dembe’s Christmases special.

Outside of the car window the campus was blanketed with a couple inches of snow and Ray could see where the students had tracked dirty paths through the white. There was a group of them loitering around an arrangement of picnic tables under one of the bare trees that dotted the lawn here and there. He watched them for a moment, reluctant to venture out of the warm car just yet.

It looked like there were three boys and a girl all standing around talking. It was hard to tell if he knew any of them since they were all bundled up in heavy coats, hats and scarves with hands shoved in pockets. Two of the boys stood with their backs to the car with the third boy facing them. He could just make out a pair of broad shoulders and a couple of legs moving back and forth between the other two. The girl had hopped up to sit on one of the tables.

As he watched, one of the boys whose back he was looking at gestured sharply at the third boy who backed away a couple of steps. Ray shifted in his seat, becoming more interested in the exchange. When the girl jumped off the table and put herself between the third boy and his two adversaries he opened the door and stepped out. The group was a good fifty yards away but the cold, still air carried their raised voices easily.

“I told you to stay away from my girl, _boy_.”

The student’s back was still turned to him but the way he said the word ‘boy’ set Ray’s teeth on edge. Perhaps he had some paternal instincts after all because all of them were screaming that the young man being harassed over by the picnic tables was _his_ young man. And normally he would never step into a conflict where he wasn’t invited but his instinct to protect in this case was fast overriding his fear of insulting the young man’s honor.

“He wasn’t trying to _date_ me, Scott, we’re just friends!” She heard the girl yell. Now the girl was facing him, standing in front of Dembe who seemed to be controlling himself admirably.

“If you’re ‘just _friends_ ’ why does he need to walk you to every bloody class and carry your bag like it’s fucking 1950 or some shit?!” Even though he was addressing his supposed girlfriend, Ray could tell that the boy’s angry gaze was all for his rival.

“Jesus, Scott, you don’t own me! I can walk with whoever I want and we _happen_ to have three classes together and he carried my bag _once_ when I had to bring like three text books to class! Why am I even fucking explaining myself to you?!” She yelled. Ray smiled to himself and silently rooted her on.

“Hey, it’s cool, Scottie,” the other boy spoke up quickly. “You know that weird scar he has on his back?”

Ray saw Dembe tense suddenly and he spoke for the first time, removing any small doubt Ray still had that this was indeed his young man. “That’s none of your fucking business, McGowen.”

Ray could see Dembe’s fists clenched by his sides and realized he’d moved closer than he intended. He didn’t want to step in and embarrass Dembe by interfering but he felt a stab of anxiety at knowing what that scar meant and how it could potentially devastate Dembe should the information get around the school.

“Yeah, what about it?” Scott asked, still staring intently at his target over his girlfriend’s head.

“I remembered seeing it somewhere in our Civil Conflict text. I brought the book home and did an image search on my Dad’s work computer.” The boy called McGowen paused.

“You shut your mouth,” Dembe said, taking a menacing step forward. As the three boys crowded together, the girl began to get visibly nervous.

“Look, guys, why don’t we all just chill?” She said, putting her hand on her boyfriend’s chest. He didn’t move and he didn’t take his eyes off Dembe.

“Or what?” McGowen continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You gonna shut it for me… faggot?”

The girl screamed as Dembe lunged around her to strike McGowen with his right fist. It wasn’t a very good shot since she was in the way and Dembe was obviously trying not to hurt his friend. Still, McGowen reeled backwards at the unexpected attack and Scott retaliated by throwing a punch that landed solidly against Dembe’s jaw. Raymond felt his entire body tense but he told himself he wouldn’t step in unless it looked like Dembe might be seriously injured.

Dembe recovered quickly from Scott’s blow and fell into a fighting crouch. Raymond had been teaching him some basic self-defense and he was physically fit and strong, no longer the skinny frightened boy he’d once been. He tasted blood from his split lip and it made him even madder. These two had been after him from day one and he was fucking tired of it. It was going to end here and now.

For a few moments all four students remained frozen. Then suddenly the girl bolted for the building where Ray’s car was parked. None of the boys seemed to notice or care.

“Let me handle this, Rich,” Scott said to his friend, “he needs to learn that _boys_ _like him_ aren’t welcome here.”

“No problem,” McGowen responded, taking a step back, “I wouldn’t want to touch him anyway. He’s nothing but a filthy _sex slave_.” McGowen spat into the snow to illustrate his disgust. Scott’s head turned quickly in surprise. “That’s what that scar means, Scott. He was a sex slave in Africa! He probably has AIDS!” The boy added, driving his knife in deeper.

Dembe didn’t waste time on an answer. He lashed out at Scott before the other boy could get his bearings. He flung a hard right hook and caught Scott right below his eye, almost knocking him to the ground. They exchanged a few blows back and forth. Dembe managing to duck most of Scott’s more lethal punches. It was much harder than it should have been to keep himself from interfering, and Ray was glad when he finally saw the young lady emerge from the building once more, flanked by two older men (clearly school administrators). Before they noticed him standing there he turned and walked into the building, taking a seat on one of the well-worn wooden benches in the lobby.

When the group of adults and students finally made their way into the building Ray had had a moment to think about what he’d heard out on the school lawn. Maybe he couldn’t fight _all_ of Dembe’s battles for him, but he could damn well make sure that the teenager’s past didn’t continue to mar his new life. It would just take a few minutes alone with those two scoundrels. As Dembe passed him on the way to the Principal’s office they locked eyes briefly before the young man looked quickly away. At least it didn’t look like he had suffered any serious injuries.

A short time later, Dembe emerged from some inner sanctum, looking much more subdued that he’d been going in. For a moment he stood awkwardly in front of Raymond.

“I guess you got here just in time to see the fight huh?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, still not looking at the older man.

“Sit down, Dembe,” Ray said. Dembe sat on the bench and hunched over to hold his head in his hands. “Sit up and look at me.”

Dembe sighed but did as Ray asked.

“I admit I saw and heard much more than I’d have liked to. What did Dr. Goldman say about the incident?”

“Oh, you know, the typical Principal thing: ‘We expect more from our Cheshire students, _especially_ our upper-classmen. You all should know better than to settle disputes with violence.’ Blah. Blah. Blah. He called me a…” Dembe jumped up again as he raised his voice but Raymond interrupted.

“I _heard_ what he called you. Is that what you _are_? A faggot? A sex slave? _Do_ you have AIDS?” While Raymond’s voice remained calm, he wore an intensely focused expression that set Dembe slightly on edge.

“Well I _was_ …”

Ray stood up too, taking Dembe’s upper arms firmly in his hands. “That is _not_ what I asked. I asked if those words he used, those accusations, describe the person you _are today_. Do they?” Ray’s green eyes bored into Dembe’s brown ones and the young man shifted in his grasp.

“No,” he answered softly, “I’m miles away from who I was when you pulled me out of that brothel, and we both know that I’m rarely afflicted with anything worse than a stupid cold.”

“Okay then,” Ray said, rubbing Dembe’s arms soothingly. “The car is right outside. Are you free to go now?”

“Yeah, Dr. Goldman said we’d all have one week of kitchen duty when we come back from break as punishment.” Dembe grimaced slightly. He really hated cooking and serving for hundreds of people.

“All right then, go sit in the car and wait for me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make sure that the things said on that lawn today don’t go any further.”

Without waiting for Dembe’s response, Ray walked briskly down the corridor to Dr. Goldman’s office. When he entered, he found the Doctor sitting behind his desk and the two other boys involved in the altercation sitting slumped insolently in two chairs opposite. When he opened the door Dr. Goldman looked up in surprise.

“Mr. Reddington! I do hope this incident has been resolved to your satisfaction. You know I certainly don’t condone that type of behavior on my campus.” The man rose to shake Ray’s hand.

“It’s quite all right, Howard. Boys will be boys will they not?” Somehow Ray’s smile didn’t seem to reduce the nervous tension in the Principal’s face.

“Quite right,” he agreed amiably. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

Raymond glanced at the two reprobates. “I know this isn’t quite the usual procedure but I was wondering if you’d allow me a few moments alone with these two young gentlemen, hmmm? I promise not to take up too much of their valuable time and we shall be on our way.”

The two boys’ heads flew up to look at Raymond in almost comical surprise.

“Well, that is most irregular. I’m not sure that their parents…” Dr. Goldman prevaricated.

“Nonsense! I know Mr. McGowen’s father, Senator McGowen? He and I used to play golf together at least once a week and I’ve had several friendly run-ins with Mr. Scott’s as well. Isn’t your father running for some public office or other these days, son?” Ray turned towards Scott, who was sitting closest to him and placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. Judging by the look on his face, it felt more like a threat.

“I suppose a few minutes couldn’t hurt then,” the Principal brightened a bit, shuffling around Reddington and out the door. When Ray heard the door snick shut behind him he moved to sit behind the administrator’s abandoned desk, removing his hat and placing it on the leather blotter in front of him. The boys stared at him warily.

“Hello, gentleman, do you know who I am?” They glanced at each other but remained silent. “Oh, how rude of me, I forget that children aren’t always privy to the adult dramas playing out in the home. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Raymond Reddington.” Ray held out his hand and each boy shook it reflexively. “Don’t worry,” he continued, “You’re not in any danger from me. I just wanted to let each of you know that there will be no repeat of the incident I just witnessed outside. And I suggest that you both forget whatever information you may have gathered regarding Dembe’s past. It would be most unfortunate if such information became common knowledge. And you must agree that it is quite beneath young men of your caliber to spread such rumors.”

He watched the boys for their reactions. Scott was clearly the brighter of the two. The anger had drained from his face to be replaced by a frightened wariness. He clearly understood the implication of threat in Raymond’s words. McGowen, however, was going to be a tougher nut to crack.

“Are you threatening me?” He questioned with an exaggerated air of offense.

Raymond sighed. “Mr. McGowen, I do not make threats. And I really do not have time to waste in schooling _boys_ of your age in regards to proper civilized behavior. So let me make this abundantly clear. I will not hear about any rumors being spread around this school concerning Dembe. If I _do_ hear of such rumors then I would be forced to teach you an object lesson by revealing certain indiscretions within your own family. And if you do not believe me then I encourage you to relay this entire conversation to your father and see what he has to say about it.”

At least this time McGowen looked much more cautious.

“Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?” He asked as he rose, placing his hat back on his head.

After a few beats they both nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful! I wish you both a happy holiday. Please do give my regards to your parents.”

He didn’t wait to see if they had anything further to say on the matter. Hopefully their little chat would suppress any ugly whispers. Those types of things tended to spread like wildfire on a high school campus.

Once outside he hurried down the steps and slid into the town car. “Yves, to the airport please and be quick about it. We’re running a bit behind.”

“Yes, sir,” Yves answered, raising the tinted partition and pulling smoothly away from the curb.

“The airport?” Dembe asked, the prospect of a trip chasing some of the worry out of his eyes.

“Yes, we’re going on holiday for two weeks. I thought you deserved it after all the hard work you’ve put in this semester.” Raymond said, smiling.

“You still think I deserve it after that?”

“Well, while I do think your reaction was a bit juvenile, I can’t fault you for feeling threatened. Although I think you probably gave them more ammunition.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dembe, while you no longer think of yourself as a frightened, exploited captive, it is a part of your history. In fact, it is a very large part of your history when you consider that you spent many of your formative years there. And their baseless accusations regarding your health are just the words of a jealous, angry child. By reacting the way you did you told them that they had hurt you. You gave them the _power_ to hurt you by showing them that their words had affected you.”

“So should I have just let them spread rumors about me? Tell the whole school where I came from? It’s none of their business and not theirs to tell!”

“Of course not, my boy! But what does beating them to a pulp accomplish? Are you going to go around assaulting every person who says something hurtful to you? Would that have stopped these boys from spreading rumors about you or would they have been more inclined to blab away out of revenge?”

Dembe sighed. “I see your point. It just caught me off guard, you know? That they knew about what happened to me. I’m not used to anyone but me and you knowing.”

“Are you sure it didn’t have more to do with that young lady you two were fighting over?” Raymond asked gently. While Dembe hadn’t dated anyone that he knew of, he was quite familiar with extreme emotional reactions driven by love (or lust).

“Ashley and I are just friends, Raymond. I don’t… I don’t like her that way,” Dembe answered, a little embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken. They didn’t often talk about such things. He had almost told Raymond about his other secret. The one that he still wasn’t sure about himself. His past as a victim of sexual abuse often led to very confused emotions regarding love and sex. Things that he mostly avoided thinking about unless his therapist insisted. But he was beginning to think he may just like men more than he liked women. Lately he’d been talking to his therapist, Dr. F, about whether or not this attraction was _real_ or just something that had been programmed in him by his abusers. It didn’t help that all of his attraction seemed to be focused solely on one individual. He joked sometimes with Dr. F that maybe he was uni-sexual.

“Well, take some advice from someone who has been there. Never get in the middle of someone else’s relationship. It never ends well,” Raymond’s voice broke into his thoughts, the older man’s hand squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dembe said, feeling much more relaxed, “so where are we going?” He asked, trying to focus on something other than self-reflection.

“That, my friend, is a surprise. At least until we go through customs,” Raymond winked at him.

“So we’re going out of the country then.”

Raymond’s enigmatic smile didn’t change.

“What did you say to those assholes?” See, two could play at change-the-subject, Dembe thought mischievously.

“What makes you think I said _anything_ to them?” Raymond asked innocently.

“Well, you weren’t stalking off down the hall to pay Dr. Goldman a social call! Come on, give!”

Ray leaned his head back onto the headrest, heartily ready to put some distance between himself and any further crisis. “I simply ensured that any knowledge they may have gained about your past goes no further than today, that’s all.”

Dembe looked at the older man carefully. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted back against the head rest. He could see worry lines forming between his eyes and thought that 29 was _way_ too young to have that much stress. But he also knew that, like himself, Raymond was much older than his chronological age. He felt the sudden urge to smooth those lines away. It would be so easy to do. Just reach up and run his hand over Raymond’s forehead, massage his temples for a moment. His hands twitched at the thought but he looked away before he could act. There was no point in torturing himself with something he’d never have. Instead he promised himself that he would try to make this vacation as relaxing as possible for his friend.

 

**Part 4**

**Senioritis**

**Cheshire Academy**

**Cheshire, Connecticut**

**October 2001**

“Mr. Zuma.” Dr. Williams’ voice broke into the fog of Dembe’s daydream. His head snapped up guiltily. He heard April Benning giggle in the seat next to him. “Are you with us, sir? I am aware that Ms. Bronte isn’t nearly as exciting as the slings and arrows of the Lecrosse field, or whatever _else_ you might be dreaming about, but perhaps she deserves just a bit of your attention.”

“My apologies, Dr. Williams,” he mumbled, looking up at her frowning face. “What was the question?”

He heard several students stifle laughter this time.

“In what ways do you feel that Catherine fails in her ability to truly love Heathcliff?”

He _really_ needed to stop daydreaming during class. Raymond hadn’t been very pleased lately with his flagging senior grades.

“I don’t think she really _fails_ to love him. I think that it would have been nearly impossible for her, as a woman during that time period, to actually have any kind of acceptable romantic relationship with him. While her decision to pursue Edgar is driven mostly by social pressure she also realizes that she has no actual power. These days, even though marriage outside of one’s class is more common, there is _still_ social pressure to form ‘acceptable’ relationships and we still have certain groups whose relationships are looked on as unacceptable and to whom we actually deny certain rights and privileges. In Catherine’s day, marrying an orphan with no name or inheritance, would have meant that she would have even _less_ stability. In a way, marrying Edgar was a form of self-preservation, even though her true feelings lay with Heathcliff.”

“An interesting observation,” the teacher said, “does anyone have anything to add?”

Dembe breathed a sigh of relief. In truth he was actually behind in his reading. Not that he didn’t like the book, but in some ways the romantic entanglements and dilemmas made him think a bit too much about his own situation.

He managed to make it through the rest of his Literature class without being caught daydreaming again and he was thankful that it was the last class of the day and he didn’t have practice. He fully intended to spend the afternoon catching up on his studying so he could call Raymond with a clear conscience that evening.

“Hey, Dembe.”

He turned to see April jogging up to him.

“Have you finished the anatomy homework yet?” She asked as they walked towards the door.

“Nah, I was just about to head over to the library and do some catching up. I’ve been a bit lazy this first term.”

“Oh gosh, me too! I’m _so_ ready to be out of here!” She commiserated. “Do you want to study together? I always seem to get your anatomy explanations better than Dr. Hodges’ anyway.”

Dembe really didn’t feel like studying with April. He knew she liked him and he’d been trying to dissuade her since last year but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings either by saying no when he didn’t have a legitimate reason.

“I guess we can do that,” he answered, not quite covering the disappointment in his voice.

She seemed not to hear it though, smiling brightly as she walked with him through the cool fall air towards the school’s library building.

“I’m having trouble with the memorization. Dr. Nelson wants us to remember the bones by type but it’s easier for me to remember them by location so I’ve been, you know, standing in front of my mirror and pointing.” She got up from her chair to demonstrate.

He watched her for a few minutes. Admittedly she had come up with a rather inventive rhyme to go along with her body movements and gestures. When she finished with her toes and feet she stood up, red-faced and smiling.

“Well, you’ve got a good system but I’m not sure Dr. Nelson is going to appreciate the show and tell. How about if you transfer your tactical memorization technique to a written one? Draw a stick figure and label it.”

She smiled at him in a way that made him vaguely uncomfortable. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. She probably could have thought of that all by herself, he thought irritably.

“That’s brilliant, Dembe, I’ll have to work on that this weekend so I’ll have it down for the exam on Monday.” She sat down again and somehow her chair had moved several inches closer to his. “Hey, what are you doing for Halloween?” She asked.

Dembe tensed. If she asked him out he’d have to tell her no and then he’d have to deal with all sorts of… messiness. “Um, I hadn’t really thought about it. I have an essay due for Dr. Williams the week after so I’ll probably spend all weekend in the library.”

“Come on, you can’t spend _three days_ in the library doing research! You’re like, tenth in the class, surely you can afford to skip one night of work. Look, my parents are letting me host a _huge_ costume party at our house. They said I could invite whoever I want. I’d really like it if you could come,” she finished. Dembe thought the puppy eyes were a bit much.

“Look, I don’t know,” he hesitated, “Raymond might have plans for me that weekend.” There, a totally legitimate excuse.

“Really, Dembe, you want to hang out with your _dad_ on Halloween? Come ON! If you’re worried about those jerks that always hassle you I can promise you that they _won’t_ be there. My Dad is a Democrat anyway so he _hates_ Senator McGowen. He’s basically forbidden me to date anyone who isn’t a Democrat you know.”

Personally, he thought that was a bit ridiculous but whatever. Politics held very little interest for him even since he’d gotten an up close and personal look into that world through Ray’s eyes. They were all corrupt bastards as far as he was concerned.

“I guess I can check with him and get back to you,” he said. Why in the _world_ was is so hard for him to say no to people?

“Awesome! Hey, I really need to get back to my dorm,” she said, glancing at her watch. Curfew was at 10 during the week and it was almost nine thirty now.

“Sure. Um, do you want me to walk you? It’s pretty dark out,” he said. Raymond would say it was the chivalrous thing to do.

“Oh would you? I know it’s like in the opposite direction of yours but I have to pass by the creepy maintenance building.” She shuddered dramatically.

“No problem,” he said.

By ten Dembe was safely ensconced in his dorm room. His roommate gave him a cursory greeting when he entered and motioned to the cell phone stuck to his ear. Dembe nodded back. He retrieved his own cell from his bag and decided that he’d make his call in the common room. Most students were already in their rooms for the night and the common room (no more than a collection of couches, chairs and a large-screen TV in the lobby) was deserted. Dembe flopped down onto one of the worn couches and hit the speed-dial number for Raymond’s personal cell.

“Hello, Dembe,” came the much-loved voice.

“Hi, just thought I’d call and, you know, see how things are going.”

“ _Things_ , as you say, are going quite well. I’ll be in Venice until the end of next week.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I must have woken you! It must be, what,” he did some quick calculations, “4 am there?”

“It’s okay. I was already up.”

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” Dembe asked. He’d often caught the older man awake at all sorts of hours when he was living with him. When he asked about it, Raymond admitted that he often battled bouts of insomnia.

“No more than usual. How is school?”

Dembe acknowledged the deft change of subject with a sigh. “School’s good. I spent the evening catching up on some work. I promise my grades this term will be much better.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Raymond said with a note of affection.

“Um, can I ask you something?” He tried to sound casual but felt he missed the mark.

“You can,” Ray said, a smile in his voice.

“Well, there’s this girl…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” Raymond exclaimed.

Dembe felt an unwelcome flash of annoyance at Raymond’s happy acceptance of this news.

“She wants me to go to a Halloween party at her house next weekend. I told her you probably would want to spend some time with me so I’ll just tell her I can’t,” he said in a rush before Raymond could interrupt.

There was a few beats of silence on the other end of the line and then, “Dembe, you know I enjoy our time together, especially now that we have so little of it.” The older man paused as if thinking of what to say. Dembe was already feeling discouraged. “And if there were something special or important happening on Halloween that you wanted to share with me then I certainly would attempt to clear my calendar…”

“It’s fine,” Dembe interrupted. He just could not _stand_ hearing one more word. It was bad enough to deal with all these unrequited feelings but to have Raymond treat him with kid gloves like he was some kind of… child. It just rankled. “I’ll tell her I can go then. It’s only like two hours away so I might ask if I can stay the night and catch a car home in the morning.” _There_ , he thought, _let him stew on_ that _bit of intel_.

“What’s the girl’s name?” Raymond asked.

“April Benning,” he said.

“Benning…” Raymond repeated in a tone that implied he was making five billion mental connection in half a second. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time!”

“It’s a costume party,” Dembe added. “I don’t have a costume. I’ve never even celebrated Halloween!” Okay, that had sounded a bit desperate.

“Ah! A costume party! Don’t fret. I’ll take care of that. You wouldn’t happen to know what the young lady is wearing would you?”

“Um, no. I didn’t ask.” He felt heat rising to his face again. Why is it that he always felt wrong-footed when he talked to the older man?

“No matter. I’ll find something spectacular!”

Dembe wasn’t sure if he wanted spectacular but it felt bad-natured to refuse. “Okay, Raymond. I’m sure it’ll be a great party.” He tried to sound excited but his heart wasn’t really in it.

He was so busy during the two weeks leading up to the party that he managed to avoid thinking about it until he returned to his dorm a few days before the event, and the senior RA on duty stopped him in the lobby. “Package for you,” the other student said, hefting a rather large, oblong box onto the counter.

Dembe stared at the package for a moment then his brain kicked into gear and he remembered. The costume. This must be whatever costume Raymond had come up with (or more likely, had made at great expense) for the party this weekend. “Thanks,” he said, signing for the box and hefting it under his arm.

Part of him was a bit hesitant to see what sort of costume his guardian might have felt appropriate for a high school Halloween party. He was very glad his roommate wasn’t around. At least if it was something weird or embarrassing he wouldn’t have anyone around to witness it. He decided if he didn’t like it he’d just hide it in the back of his closet and go buy a sheet and cut some eye holes in it or something.

The box gave little away. Inside the generic cardboard shipping box was a large, white box with no store name or other identifying signature. Dembe raised the lid slowly, not quite knowing what to expect. His eyes widened when he saw the rich fabric. Before he even pulled the outfit out of the box he ran his hand over the piece on top. It was velvet just as he suspected, and if he knew Raymond (and he did) he was sure it was the most expensive designer fabric available.

There was no hesitation now as he pulled out the different items of clothing. First there was a long waist-coat in rich, dark red velvet. He lay it carefully on the bed and ran his hand along the gold stitching decorating the front. The buttons, antique brass for sure, were almost three inches wide and ran down the entire right side. Next came the vest, made in the same velvet material with trim to match the coat. Then there was a linen shirt in an off-white color with ruffled sleeves and neck. The linen was so soft and delicate to the touch that he was almost afraid he would damage it. The trousers, made to fit just below the knee, had the same gold accents. Lastly there was a pair of hose, colored to match the linen shirt and a pair of black heeled shoes. Without even trying it on, he was sure it would fit perfectly, every item custom sized to his precise measurements. He wondered which of Raymond’s many eccentric friends had constructed this fantastic outfit. It was perfect.

The evening of the party arrived three days later. Dembe dressed carefully, taking time to make sure that the velvet was meticulously brushed and all of the ruffles lay neatly at his neck and below the long sleeves of his coat. It felt strange wearing tights. In actual 18th century England men would have worn garters above their knees to hold them up but in the 21st century his were equipped with handy elastic strips that clung tightly to his thighs. He slipped his feet into the heeled shoes last and stood in front of the long mirror on the closet door. He imagined he was an 18th century gentleman going out of an evening to play billiards and smoke cigars in some rich aristocrat’s drawing room. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his fantasy.  

“Hello,” he said.

“Mr. Zuma?”

“This is he.”

“Your car is here, sir.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right down.”

When he emerged from the dorm building he saw a sleek black sedan idling at the curb. The driver emerged and quickly reached to open the rear door. It wasn’t until he had slid almost all the way into the car that he noticed the back seat was already occupied.

“Oh, I’m so sorry...” he began, thinking maybe he’d missed seeing another car parked further down the road.

A gentle but firm hand closed around his wrist, keeping him from exiting the car again. He turned his head to see who had grabbed him and froze. Laughing green eyes met his.

“Raymond!”

“I just could not resist seeing you in that outfit in person,” the older man said.

Dembe slid the rest of the way into the car and the driver closed the door, returning to the front seat and pulling away from the curb.

“I can’t believe you came all this way! What about your trip? Weren’t you supposed to be in India this week?”

“Something came up. And I needed to deliver the rest of your costume!” The older man reached down between his feet to retrieve a rather large hat box. He placed it on the seat between them and took the top off.

When Dembe leaned over to peer inside he saw a three-corner hat, made of the same red velvet as his suit. His eyes widened as he carefully withdrew it from the box and examined it.

“I tried to have it ready with the rest but it turns out there’s just not that many hatters these days who can make such an artifact.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Raymond. This entire night has been incredible and I haven’t even gotten to the party yet.”

Ray chuckled. “Well, it gets better. I have one more thing for you.” With that he produced another item from the floor board. This one was a long, black walking cane. He handed it to Dembe with a flourish. “This one is special. It is a genuine antique, verified to have belonged to some 18th century demi-royal or other.”

“Where did you get it?” Dembe asked, running his hands up and down the polished, lacquered wood and examining the intricately carved ivory handle.

“From a friend,” Raymond answered cryptically. “So you like the costume?”

“Raymond, ‘like’ is way too mild a word! It’s spectacular! Thank you so much!” He was so overwhelmed by his guardian’s generosity and thoughtfulness that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He desperately wanted to throw his arms around the older man’s neck and kiss him senseless but he was sure he’d just be rebuffed and he didn’t want to risk anything ruining this perfect evening. But maybe…

“So how about I just skip the party and we can go to dinner or something,” he smiled winningly at Raymond across the seat.

“Oh no you don’t! Isn’t your young lady expecting you?”

In his excitement Dembe had all but forgotten about April. He supposed it would be bad manners to ditch a party to which the hostess had specifically invited him.

“You’re right, I have to at least make an appearance. How long are you staying? You’re not going to just sit in the car the whole time are you? I’m sure April wouldn’t mind if you crashed.” He couldn’t stop the hope in his voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay. I just came to deliver these last two things and, like I said, I wanted to see you in your costume. I’ll have another car waiting at the Benning residence.”

Dembe was disappointed but he guessed it had been a bit unrealistic to expect Raymond to want to hang out with a bunch of high school kids.

They spent the two hour drive catching each other up on the recent events in their lives. It was over long before Dembe was ready for it to end but as they pulled up to the Benning house, Ray told the driver to give them a few minutes. He stepped out of the car and Dembe could see the flare of a lighter as the man lit a cigarette.

“Dembe,” something in Raymond’s tone sounded serious, “you only have a short time left to be young like this. Please do try to live in the moment and stop trying to rush into being a grown-up. You missed so much. I would hate for you to leave this place with regrets.”

Dembe wasn’t quite sure what the other man meant. He was sure that Raymond knew about his not-so-secret crush on him. Was it so obvious that he was just biding his time until he felt his advances wouldn’t be refused? He didn’t feel he’d be missing out on much. From what he’d observed, the social lives of his peers consisted mostly of superficial, often transitory friendships and romantic attachments that began and ended so fast he often couldn’t remember who was dating whom. None of these things seemed appealing to him in the least. He wished he _could_ find pleasure in these things, but he still didn’t feel like he truly belonged in this strange teenage world.

“I won’t have any regrets,” he answered, trying to put as much conviction in his voice as he could.

Raymond sighed in a way that meant that hadn’t been what he wanted to hear.

“Have fun at the party, Dembe,” he said. He was out of the car before Dembe could say anything else. Seconds later the driver opened Dembe’s door.

Dembe made up his mind that he _would_ enjoy this party. He couldn’t throw Raymond’s present back in his face by behaving like a pouty adolescent. When he emerged from the car he placed his hat carefully on his head, swung his cane jauntily at his side and walked confidently to the front door.

 

**Part 5**

**A Man Grown**

**New York City, NY**

**May 2002**

“You’re Italian is much better than the last time we were here,” Raymond said, deftly pouring wine into both of their glasses.

Dembe beamed a smile at the older man. He seemed to have a gift for languages and had enjoyed both taking classes at school and teaching himself several at a time. “Thanks,” he lifted his own glass in a little toast before taking a sip. As usual, Red’s wine choice went perfectly with their meal.

The restaurant Raymond had chosen for dinner was owned by a ‘friend’ (one of a seemingly endless variety of unusual acquaintances that he had acquired over the years) and as far as Dembe could tell the entire staff spoke fluent Italian even though the eatery was located in the heart of New York city.

Raymond had asked him if he wanted to invite any of his friends from school but he’d declined. In truth he still felt _worlds_ away from all of them. He had learned to get along with most and even to like some of them but there was no way that they would ever be able to understand him the way that Raymond did. And at any rate, even though his therapist continually refuted him, he didn’t feel that he could ever really have a _normal_ life. He certainly couldn’t see himself graduating college, meeting some totally average woman (or man), buying a house and having 2.5 kids or whatever. Those dreams had been snatched from him during his years of captivity. Despite having come a long way, the shadow of that time continued to hang over him when it came to his ability to fit in.

“I’d offer you a penny but with the expression on your face I’m _sure_ those thoughts are worth at least a couple of dollars.”

Dembe looked up to meet Raymond’s intense gaze. Sometimes it seemed the man could read his mind. _I wish_ , he thought, _it would make things so much easier._

“Are you still wondering if you should have picked Harvard over Cornell?”

“No, Cornell has a better Literature program _and_ a better languages program.”

“Then what is it? What could you possibly be pensive about on such a celebratory night?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m falling for someone and I’m not looking forward to spending at least four more years basically apart.” That was _not_ what he had planned to say. Dembe was sure of it. But the moment the words were out of his mouth, he felt lighter and a bit reckless. Maybe now was the time. Raymond couldn’t use the excuse that he was still a child at any rate. He was officially a legal adult, had been for over a year now.

“Oh?” Raymond said, but he didn’t question Dembe about _who_ this mystery crush was. Dembe was fairly certain that Ray already knew at any rate. The man was probably the smartest person he’d ever met. The only reason that Raymond refused to acknowledge the elephant-in-the-room was because he felt their relationship would be ‘inappropriate’. Which was bullshit as far as Dembe was concerned.

“Is it someone from Cheshire?”

Raymond was suddenly, blindingly angry. He was sick and tired of Raymond playing dumb where this attraction was concerned. He hadn’t been exactly subtle about it these last couple of years. The pretense was getting old.

“No, it isn’t. Are we going to discuss this like adults or are you going to continue to sweep it under the rug; to pretend as though I’m still 14 cowering in a stinking brothel basement?”

“Keep your voice down.”

Dembe was taken aback by the harsh tone of the other man’s voice. Raymond rarely spoke rudely or harshly to anyone that he had witnessed. The older man was always the picture of calm control. The fact that he’d broken through that sent a rush of exhilaration through him even if it was aimed at him.

“We are not having this discussion here, certainly,” Raymond continued, “eat your dinner.” Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to his food but his enjoyment was dampened by the tension between them.

They ate in tense silence, an unfamiliar sensation that left Dembe feeling wrong-footed. Perhaps he _had_ read the other man wrong. Maybe the mutual attraction he’d sensed had been all in his head. He glanced at the older man throughout the meal but it seemed he was determined to avoid Dembe’s questioning gaze. He tried several times to engage Raymond in some light conversation but the other man’s clipped responses didn’t leave much room for feedback and he soon gave up and sat miserably pushing the remains of his food around his plate.

Why was it that Raymond could still have him feeling like a chastised child? He wanted to seem confident and strong to the other man. He knew that those were the types of people that Ray surrounded himself with and the last thing he wanted was for Ray to see him as some desperate, needy _teenager_. He just had so little experience at navigating any kind of intimate relationship and his childhood certainly hadn’t provided any lessons he wanted to reference. And the fleeting romances of his high school peers weren’t really something he was interested in emulating.

The meal seemed to drag on forever. After their entrees Raymond asked politely if he wanted desert. He didn’t. But Ray insisted on ordering Cannoli and coffee for himself so Dembe was forced to endure another thirty minutes of tense silence.

In the car it was even worse. Ray obviously didn’t feel like he had to keep up appearances. He sat as far away from the younger man as he could get and spent the short ride to their building staring out the window. Dembe felt miserable. _Why_ did he have to open his mouth and _ruin_ everything? Anxiety reared its ugly head. Would Raymond send him away? He had no obligation to Dembe now surely. He was sure that the older man would maintain his promise to pay for Dembe’s education but the younger man felt sick at the thought of money being the only thing binding them together. Maybe he’d got the wrong way of it and Raymond wasn’t even attracted to men at all. What if all this time Raymond had just been putting up with his stupid flirting because he thought it was some adolescent phase? But something, some instinct, told him that wasn’t true either. Ray was far too worldly to believe that pleasure could only be found in traditional configurations. He couldn’t decide if he was anxious to get home or if he wanted this car ride to last forever.

When they finally reached the building, Raymond exited the car before the driver could open his door and it seemed only habit and propriety kept him from stalking inside without waiting for Dembe. The younger man trailed behind him as he passed the concierge desk, not even acknowledging George’s greeting. The building employee gave Dembe a sympathetic look as he passed.

In the elevator, Dembe almost couldn’t contain himself any longer. All this tension was driving him insane.

“Just wait until we get inside,” Raymond said, seeming to sense he was about to break. Dembe was glad that the other man’s voice was carefully controlled and no longer held a note of anger.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived when the door was safely closed and locked and they stood in the foyer of Raymond’s lavish apartment.

“Dembe, you are _not_ in love with me,” Raymond pronounced.

“Oh, thank you very much for totally invalidating my feelings!” Dembe heard himself shouting. He knew it was the wrong approach to take, but _damn it_ he was going to get Raymond Reddington to see him as an adult if it was the last thing he did. “I’ve wanted you for _years_ now and you know it!”

Ray sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Look, let’s just get changed and sit down and talk about this. I was hoping it would all just go away but since you seem determined…” He held up a hand when Dembe would have interrupted. “Since you seem determined to ruin your _entire_ life despite my efforts to the contrary we might as well have this out now.” With that he disappeared down the hall into his bedroom, leaving Dembe standing open-mouthed in the foyer.

It seemed to take Ray an awfully long time to get changed out of his suit and reappear in the plush, comfortable living room. Dembe had thrown on some sweats and a t-shirt in about five seconds and was waiting anxiously.

When Ray finally appeared he was wearing a pair of well-worn designer jeans and a white undershirt. Dembe took heart when the other man chose to sit with him on the couch (although at the far end) rather than on one of the other available pieces of furniture.

“I think I phrased that badly,” Ray said. “I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t know your own mind. What makes you think you’re falling in love with me?”

Dembe smiled, relaxing now that he felt on more familiar footing. If Ray was encouraging him to examine his feelings logically then maybe there was a chance that a logical argument might convince him.

“You’re the only person who understands me.” Dembe waited but it seemed Ray was expecting further explanation. “I mean, aside from the fact that you were there, and you saw what those bastards had done to me. You always seemed to know I wasn’t like the other kids. I knew more. I had seen more in 14 years than any of them will see in their lifetimes. How could I _possibly_ have a relationship with _any_ of them?! How could I be expected to share with them everything I’ve been through and be looked at with anything other than pity? You’ve _never_ looked at me as though you pitied me. Not once. Not even when you took that chain off my ankle. I remember how you looked at me that day. You saw me as an equal. Maybe not an equal in physical strength or money or power but you recognized that I had the potential to be something great and then you made that happen for me! You never let me use my childhood as an excuse to _not_ do something. You never let me feel sorry for myself. Why can you see me as an equal in here…” Dembe stopped, jamming a punishing finger into his temple, “but not in _here_.” He finished this short speech by placing his hand over his heart.

They stared at each other. Dembe waited while Ray processed what he’d heard.

“Dembe, I understand you because in many ways we are the same. I have seen things… I have _done_ things in my life that would make all the hairs on your body stand on end. Maybe it was wrong of me to shield you from that side of myself. Maybe I created this situation by only sharing with you the good side of myself and not all of the ugly, dark parts. Trust me, there are days when I think I’m more dark than light. And maybe I was being a little bit selfish. You had already seen so much darkness. The last thing I wanted was for you to go from the frying pan into the fire. I am not a nice man, Dembe. Contrary to what you may believe of me, I am not someone to whom you really want to hitch your young star.”

“Why don’t you let _me_ make that decision? Who are you to tell me who I can and cannot love? You’ve always said that a man must stand by his decisions. You taught me to be independent and think for myself. But now you want me to be swayed by some vague claims that you wouldn’t be _good for me_?! Why don’t you allow _me_ to be the judge of that? I mean, I could see maybe if you weren’t attracted to men or to me in particular then that might be a reason for you to refuse my advances but for God’s sake stop treating me like a child!” By the end he was shouting, standing rigidly in front of Raymond who was still seated. He felt his fists clenched at his sides and made an effort to relax.

“Sit down,” Ray said. Dembe sat, still breathing heavily. “I can see that this goes deeper than I’d thought. And I am _sorry_ , Dembe, that I didn’t address it sooner. In some ways I _have_ fallen short in my duty to you.”

“Is that all I am to you? Some obligation? What, did you rescue me simply to atone for all those many sins you alluded to earlier?!” For a moment Dembe felt as if he might be physically ill. He couldn’t even look at Raymond. Instead he stared at his hands, clasped tightly and held between his knees.

Ray’s warm, dry hands appeared in his frame of vision, moving softly over his own dark skin. The gentle touch melted his anger but left him hollow.

“Dembe, look at me, please,” Raymond said softly.

His eyes were drawn inexorably upwards. He felt as if he would always respond to that voice. Those horrible men at the brothel hadn’t been able to buy his obedience with thousands of whippings and endless rapes but Raymond Reddington had bought him for a bottle of water and half a granola bar. A song really. It wasn’t until he saw the moisture in the older man’s eyes that he realized he felt tears rolling down his own cheeks. He moved to wipe his face on the shoulder of his shirt but one of Ray’s hands intercepted him, tenderly wiping away the wetness on his face.

“I think I must be the most selfish man on the face of the planet.”

Dembe wanted to disagree but Ray didn’t stop to let him interject.

“You’re right.” For a moment Dembe felt the type of desolation he’d only ever felt at the hands of his abusers, but Ray’s soft chuckle told him he’d once again read the younger man like a book. “Earlier, when you said it ought to be your decision whether or not the person you love is good enough for you. But I’m afraid that I was so desperate to keep our connection that I only gave you half the puzzle to work with. You can’t be expected to make that decision without seeing the entire picture. And maybe I’m a coward because I am so scared that if you know everything about me you won’t want to love me anymore.”

“There is _nothing_ you could tell me, _nothing_ you could show me that would change the way I feel about you,” Dembe said with as much conviction as the lump in his throat would allow.

“Sometimes I forget how naïve you are still. You have seen some horrible things, yes, but you’ve never had to confront disappointment in a lover. You’ve never had the opportunity to love and to lose someone. A relationship like this is not something that is made stronger with rashly given promises.”

“Is it made stronger by sex?” Dembe had realized long ago that sometimes the fastest way to get Ray to capitulate was to make him laugh. He was not disappointed when the older man let out a hearty guffaw, releasing Dembe’s hands to sit back against the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“I think we’re not even _close_ to discussing sex,” Ray said when he could talk again, this time wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Have you discussed your feelings with your therapist?”

Dembe frowned. “If you’re thinking that my attraction to you is nothing but some warped version of hero-worship then you’re wrong. And I _have_ discussed it with her. But like you pointed out, she doesn’t know about all your deep dark secrets either so she probably thinks you’re some bloody saint and she’d like to have a go herself.”

“Well, lucky for you I have no desire to bed Dr. Fitz.”

“Do you even sleep with men?” The humorous banter must be making him brave.

Ray turned his head to look at Dembe. “I have had sexual liaisons with men in the past, yes. Dembe, you being a man is just about the _last_ thing I’m concerned about at this point. You must understand that my life… the way I live my life does not lend itself readily to romantic ties. I have had no significant committed relationships and I don’t intend to start now.”

It seemed Ray paused to see how the younger man would take this news. Dembe was so pleased to hear that at least Ray might be open to sex with another man that he was reluctant to even think about a ‘committed relationship’.  

“Maybe we should talk about all those deep dark secrets you’re hiding so I can make up my mind whether I even _want_ to sleep with you anymore,” Dembe said, trying to sound cool.

Raymond was silent for a long time. Dembe began to think the other man would refuse and then where would they be?

“If I share these things with you, Dembe, we can’t go back to the way we were before,” Ray said. His voice was so serious that it sucked every last ounce of humor from the room. “I was sincere when I said that there are many things in my past that I am not proud of. And the path I have chosen for my life would necessarily have to include anyone who is as close to me as you are. Which is one of the reasons that I have avoided these types of… entanglements. So I’m going to give you a choice. I don’t want you to decide right away. Think about it. After you know everything about me there is a good chance that you’ll be more inclined to run screaming into the night than be screaming beneath me in bed.” Dembe’s throat went dry at the heat in those last few words. There was no doubt now, in his mind, that Raymond wanted him. Time to think or no, he was determined to hear and accept whatever the older man had to say. “Just remember that things like this can’t be undone. The last thing I want is to lose the relationship I already have with you. I have enjoyed having a connection that doesn’t involve manipulation, deceit and loyalty bought with money.”

With those cryptic words, Ray got up off the couch and retired to his room, shutting the door softly, but finally, behind him.

Dembe knew he wouldn’t sleep. He thought about calling Dr. Fitz but if he called her in the middle of the night she might think it was some emergency and he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. All he could think about was how close he was to having what he’d wanting for so long. He found himself out of bed and pacing his room more than once. Finally, at around four in the morning he broke and went to stand outside of Raymond’s bedroom door. He put both hands on the cool wood and leaned his naked chest against it. The shock of cold against his body made him shiver but he put his ear to the door anyway. He couldn’t hear anything. Ridiculous really to think that he would be able to hear the other man breathing. But it made him feel closer and gave him a strange sense of peace, as if Raymond were on the other side of the door, a mirror to his own desire.

Sunrise found the young man in the apartment’s weight room. In an effort to keep himself from barging into Raymond’s bedroom and demanding all be revealed _now_ he had taken himself off to work out. Burning some physical energy was always therapeutic for him and the repetitive motions of lifting helped him achieve the kind of mental peace that meditation never quite accomplished. He was so focused on his workout that he didn’t notice Raymond standing in the doorway until he stopped to gulp water from a bottle he kept beside the machine he was using.

They had been shirtless in each other’s presence countless times. Raymond used the weight room too and when both were in town they often worked out together. Dembe enjoyed the opportunity to ogle a partially-dressed Ray with impunity. But this was different. Something had markedly changed in the air between them. The look in Raymond’s eyes could only be described as predatory. Dembe lowered the bottle slowly and they stood, gazes locked, for a few moments before Ray broke his stare and moved down the hallway.

When he finally joined the older man in the kitchen, Ray had breakfast well under way. He was making omelets, one of Dembe’s favorite Raymond Reddington creations. When he’d come to live with Ray it was one of the first meals they’d eaten together. It seemed omelets were destined to herald change in the Reddington/Zuma household.

By some mutual agreement the two ate a silent but not awkward breakfast and cleaned the kitchen together, Dembe washed and Ray dried.

“I want to hear it,” Dembe said as he returned the last of the glasses to the cabinet. “I’m ready to hear it. It won’t make any difference waiting. I’ll just spend another night not sleeping.” Finally, he turned to see Ray’s reaction. There was a resignation in the older man’s eyes that he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Very well,” Ray said. “Let’s go sit in the living room. Make sure you’re comfortable though. This will be a _very_ long story.”

I was a very long story, Dembe reflected. Outside of their 42nd story window, it seemed the city continued on its way. By now people were returning home from work, parents were picking their children up from daycare, kids were gathering at local parks to play basketball or meeting at theaters to see movies with friends, cars wove to and fro in the tight New York traffic, and none of these people had any clue that the world had tilted strangely on its axis. Amazing. All of this time… And he’d never had any clue, never even come _close_ to guessing at the depths that lay buried beneath his guardian’s polished veneer.

Now that the Secret was out, Raymond seemed to be even tenser than before he’d started his long tale. He was waiting for Dembe’s reaction. Waiting to see if what he’d revealed about himself changed the way the younger man felt about him.

Dembe was not unaware that what Raymond had done for him was something very few, if any, people had ever witnessed. A total surrender to vulnerability. The type if openness that Raymond Reddington was viscerally opposed to. But yet he’d shared all of this with Dembe. He had put his faith and his trust in a man who, Dembe was fast realizing, knew next to nothing about him. But that wasn’t quite true, he reflected. He _did_ know Raymond. He knew the man behind this uber-criminal that was Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington, the Concierge of Crime.

“How do I know you’re not just making all this up?” Dembe asked, turning away from the window finally and moving to sit by Ray once again.

A harsh bark of bitter laughter escaped Ray’s mouth. “Why in the _world_ would I lie to you about these things? I have revealed to you things that absolutely no other living soul on this planet knows. Things that no one in their right mind would ever lay claim to. Why would you think I’d make these things up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you think if you make yourself sound awful enough I’ll give up on this whole us becoming lovers thing,” Dembe said. It sounded like a perfectly logical argument to him.

“You know I’m not lying to you, Dembe. You are possibly the _only_ person in this world that it would be impossible for me to lie to.”

Dembe blinked, speechless. He knew when he looked into Raymond’s eyes that what the other man had told him was true. All of the horrible, terrible, illegal things he had revealed were all true. Raymond Reddington had definitely done some horrendous things. He had killed many people, quite a few of them in cold blood and for no other reason than that those people were in the way of what he wanted. He had tortured people and hurt the ones they loved. He had facilitated any number of organized crime syndicates and terrorist regimes. But somehow none of that touched what he was to Dembe. For the past six years this man had been his savior. He had been the first person in his whole life (outside of his family whom he barely remembered) to treat Dembe with dignity and respect despite what he had been. He simply could _not_ be convinced that all of the bad things Raymond had done outweighed all that good. Or at least, they all seemed very removed from the man who sat as if waiting for the ax to fall on the other end of the sofa.

“You’re in love with me too.” The words came out as an accusation.

Ray hissed as if Dembe had slapped him.

“There’s no way you would be trying so hard to scare me away if you weren’t. You’re trying to protect me just like you’ve always done since I came here. You think if I’m with you I’ll become _like_ you because you think you’re this horrible monster with no redeeming qualities. That somehow I’ll be _soiled_ by your very presence in my life.” Dembe got up from the couch. Raymond was just staring up at him imploringly. “You listen to me, Raymond Reddington, I told you that nothing you could do or say could convince me not to love you and I meant it. And you’ll never convince me that you don’t have capacity for good when the best thing you’ve ever done in your life, as far as I’m concerned, was to take that chain from around my ankle and make me yours. And I swear if you push me away I will follow you. If you try to run I will find you. If you lie to yourself and say you do not love me I will hold you down and make you see the truth. Because I may have needed you, Raymond, back in that brothel in Africa, but now _you_ need _me_.”

Before he could get another word out, he found himself crushed in the circle of Raymond’s arms. The older man had wrapped his hands around to clasp each other behind his back, trapping Dembe’s arms at his sides and smashing his face into a tense, muscled shoulder.

“Please stop talking,” Raymond’s voice was choked, his face buried in the crook of Dembe’s neck. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know…”

With a strength and daring Dembe did not know he possessed, he used all of his strength to break Ray’s hold, pushing the older man so hard that he lost his balance and fell heavily back onto the sofa.

“You do not get to tell me what I know and what I do not know anymore, Raymond.” He stalked forward so that his legs touched Ray’s knees. “I am not a child. I am a man grown. You would not have shared what you did today if you did not believe that. Stop _lying_ to yourself!” He was shouting now, practically frothing at the mouth. He felt like he was fighting for his life again, clawing and scratching for the one thing that could save him. “Do I _look_ like a child to you?” He asked, thumping his fist emphatically against his still-naked chest. “Do I _feel_ like a child to you?” Impulsively, he grabbed Ray’s right hand with his left and mashed the other man’s palm against his groin where his cock lay half-hard with adrenaline in his sweat pants.

For a few seconds they sat frozen. Neither quite believing what was happening. Then Dembe’s heart soared when Ray jerked his hand away only to reach up and yank him down by his neck, sealing their mouths together with bruising force. For once he _was_ glad that he was the younger of the two because his hormones had him going from outrage to horny is about .5 seconds flat. He returned Ray’s kiss with more enthusiasm than skill but it didn’t seem like Ray cared much. They kissed like that for several seconds before Ray pulled away, panting. He moved his right hand to the middle of Dembe’s chest and shoved hard enough to move him back a few steps before he stood up.

“Fine, you aren’t a child.” Raymond stalked towards him and Dembe was once again thrown by the look in the other man’s eyes. Instead of the heat of passion he’s seen earlier in the weight room, his eyes seemed almost painfully sad. “Would you like to see what you can expect from me as a lover? Hmmm?”

Without waiting for a response, he reached behind and grabbed Dembe by the nape of the neck again, this time tilting his head back and biting his exposed neck hard. Dembe hissed and Ray laughed darkly. “This is how I’m like with men, Dembe. If you are expecting flowers and sweet nothings you won’t get that with me.” He whispered the words harshly in the younger man’s ear then bit his earlobe hard. Reflexively, Dembe jerked away. Raymond released him so fast he almost fell over.

“See,” he said, turning away, “you are not a child. But your idea of what a relationship with me would be like is based solely on some adolescent fantasy. You can’t possibly…”

It felt good to finally have the upper hand for once, Dembe thought as he lay on top of the older man whom he’d tackled to the floor. He doubted the plush carpet had caused him any damage so he didn’t bother shifting his weight off. He didn’t want to risk Ray getting away.

“Does _this_ feel like an ‘adolescent fantasy’ to you?” He took great pleasure in grinding his erection into the other man’s ass. Ray certainly wasn’t struggling to get away. “You have no _idea_ what kind of relationship I’ve imagined because you haven’t bothered to _ask_. You’re doing it _again_. You assume that because I’ve not been in a relationship that I wouldn’t know what I want or need. I’m beginning to think you know less than you pretend if you think your little performance is going to scare me off.” He paused to lick a line up Ray’s neck to his ear, getting his own back with a firm bite. Raymond’s stifled grunt was very satisfying. “Sure, if you like it rough, we can do that.” Some devil had invaded him, he was sure. He had no idea where these words were coming from. “It’s not like I’ve never been rode hard and put away wet. I’m fairly certain you’ll at least make it good for me, unlike all those men in that brothel.”

“That is enough!”

He wasn’t even sure how it had happened but Dembe suddenly found himself flat on his back with an enraged Reddington hovering over him. The older man had him pinned with his knees grinding into Dembe’s shoulders and his hands locked around the younger man’s wrists above his head. They were both breathing hard. Even though anger had moved to the forefront in Ray’s eyes Dembe could still see the sadness there. He suddenly wanted to apologize for his crude words. How could he ever think to compare Raymond to those men? Raymond was off of him and out the door before he could even formulate a sentence.

That could have gone better. For a while he just lay there with his eyes closed, trying to hold onto the feeling of Ray’s lips against his, his weight on top of him, how it had felt to feel the other man’s teeth on his neck. He shivered as he realized he was still rock hard. Dropping a hand down he palmed his erection in his sweat pants, enjoying the feeling of friction, wishing it was Raymond’s hand and not his own. _I will not jerk off like some unrestrained hormonal boy,_ he told himself resolutely. But pulling his hand away took more will power than it should have. He realized then that he hadn’t showered after his workout and he smelled a bit ripe. He’d take a shower and hopefully Ray would be back by dinner time.

When he emerged from the steamy bathroom he could tell Ray still hadn’t made it back. For a while he distracted himself by surfing the web and watching TV. But when his stomach complained that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast some of his anxiety returned. What if Ray didn’t come back? The man had infinite resources. He could be halfway to China by now. He tried not to let himself think like that. He was sure he was right. Raymond Reddington loved him and was simply afraid to admit it. He was under the misguided impression that Dembe needed to be protected… from _him_ of all people.

He decided that he’d try and fix something for them to eat. Ray would be just as hungry by the time he got home. Looking in the fridge he found some fresh veggies and other salad ingredients and the pantry revealed enough ingredients for pasta and a light tomato sauce. He was finishing up the sauce when he heard the front door shut. He didn’t want to seem overly eager so he stayed in the kitchen and waited. It took an incredible amount of willpower to stand facing the stove, stirring the tomato sauce as he sensed Ray behind him. He could smell that Ray had been drinking but when the other man spoke his voice was steady.

“Are you sure you want to give up any chance you might have at a normal life?” It was like he just couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Dembe turned. “I was not born for a normal life, Raymond. Everything about my life has been out of the ordinary. What I want is a life with _you_. If that means that I must know horrible things, well, I have known horrible things. If that means that I will be the known associate of a criminal mastermind well, I don’t really give a shit. I feel as if everything I have done, everything I have survived up till this point has been a dress rehearsal for that kind of life. I am a survivor, Raymond. _You_ are a survivor. I think together we can do something more than just survive.”

It seemed Raymond had nothing to say to that. When he touched his mouth to Dembe’s this time the kiss was much gentler, if no less passionate. Dembe’s arms came up to wrap around Ray’s body, his hands smoothing up and down the solid back. He desperately wanted to feel the other man, skin to skin, preferably some place horizontal, like a bed. But Raymond seemed to be in no hurry. He pulled away from Dembe’s mouth but didn’t move out of his embrace as he leaned around to peer at the sauce still simmering on the stove.

“This smells incredible. Do you mind if we eat first?” Dembe could not imagine the look that was on his face but it must have been hugely amusing judging by the laughter it prompted.  

Dembe did his level best to distract Ray from his food as they ate, but the other man simply acknowledged his amateur attempts at seduction with a heated smile and kept on until his plate was empty, even going so far as to mop up the sauce with a piece of crusty bread. However when Dembe, whose plate had been long since clean, moved to clear the table, Raymond stopped him by circling his wrist with a firm hand.

“Sit for a moment, Dembe, we need to talk first.”

“ _More_ talking?!” The younger man exclaimed, slumping into his seat with a groan.

Raymond smiled indulgently at him. “Patience is a virtue you know.”

“Yeah, and you just got done listing all of the various ways that you are _not_ virtuous if I remember correctly.”

Ray seemed unsure about whether to take this as a joke but he didn’t seem inclined to skip the conversation either.

“We need to discuss the parameters of this relationship. The last thing I want to do is to cause any hurt feelings, and frankly you’re too important to me for me to risk what we currently have if you figure out too late that what I can give you isn’t enough.”

When Dembe realized how serious Raymond was he quickly settled back to listen.

“I don’t want you to get the impression that this will be some sort of exercise in domesticity. I neither want nor need a helpmate or spouse or significant other.” The last was accompanied by such an expression of distaste that is was practically comical. “And for the next few years I’m afraid that we shall have to keep on much as we have up to this point.”

“Except for having sex, right?” Dembe’s interruption was met with a nod.

“We’ll get there. You know there is pleasure to be had in delayed gratification. Perhaps that’s one good thing that can come out of this,” Raymond reflected.

“Hopefully there’ll be more than _one_ good thing!”

“Yes, anyway, as I was saying… I am adamant that our relationship change nothing pertaining to your education. You will maintain the same level of achievement that you have proven yourself capable of and finish your university degree. I won’t have you becoming distracted on my account. You will be a much more effective partner to me if the bulk of your skills lie _outside_ of the bedroom.”

Dembe rolled the word ‘partner’ around in his brain a few times and decided he liked it.

“Also, I have no expectations of fidelity from you, nor should you expect such behavior from me. My lifestyle and related activities preclude that sort of commitment. I cannot promise you that there won’t be times that I will have to sleep with other people, women, men, whoever needs be to accomplish my ultimate goals. And I don’t think it is fair of me to expect that type of commitment from you if I am unable to give it myself.”

Dembe tried his best not to flinch at this. After everything he had heard today it made sense. Ray had spent most of his adult life building quite a significant criminal empire and he also knew how often pillow talk loosened tongues easier than other, less subtle methods. He had been employed as a spy of this sort more often than he’d like to remember.

“I understand, Raymond. I won’t let our relationship interfere with my school or your… work,” he vowed.

“Lastly, I want you to understand that my feelings for you are complicated. I have not often confessed to love and I don’t plan to do so now. But I will say that the respect and trust that I have for you is implicit and inviolate. I cannot see how becoming physically intimate could possibly make our bond any stronger. If you want to call that love then I won’t stop you. With that in mind, I am acutely aware that any number of enemies might seek to use you against me should they become aware of our involvement.” He held up a hand when Dembe moved to interrupt again. “I won’t have that, Dembe. I must know that you are capable of handling yourself without my protection. I won’t always be by your side to intervene should something happen, and more than that I will _need_ to have complete confidence that no matter the distance between us, you can be counted on to avoid capture, to escape if necessary and to defend yourself up to an including using lethal force. These conditions are _not_ negotiable. I won’t be compromised by having a lover who needs rescuing.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?” Dembe asked softly, reaching across the table to take one of Ray’s hands in his. Ray shifted a bit but didn’t pull away.

“Longer than I would like to admit to, yes,” Ray said.

“When you say you want me to be able to defend myself, what do you mean? I think I can handle myself pretty well. I’m fit and strong and I know some basic defense skills.”

Ray leaned forward and brought his other hand up so that he was holding Dembe’s right hand in both of his. “I’m talking about advanced hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, weapons training and counter-intelligence tactics. I’m talking about asking you to learn how to kill people in more ways than you can even imagine. I’m talking about learning how to endure torture and interrogation without breaking. And you’ll need to start as soon as possible. I would like to know that you are passably proficient before you begin university in the fall. Once the school term starts you’ll have significantly less time to devote to… outside pursuits.”

“Is all that… really _necessary_?” Dembe asked, somewhat intimidated by Ray’s list of needed skills.

“Yes. It is. I won’t even consider pursuing this further if you don’t agree to those terms. I have lost other people I cared about to my enemies and they _were_ skilled at these things. I care about you far more than I’ve ever cared about anyone or anything else in my life. I won’t take chances with your life. This is what it takes to survive in my world.”

“So am I going to be like your business partner as well as your… Um, I’m not even sure what to call myself when it comes to you. Will we be lovers, partners, what?”

“Lovers has a nice ring to it,” Ray said, “although I’d reserve that term for when we are alone. Partners is perhaps the most appropriate description. I expect you to be my equal. Eventually you will be the only living soul who knows all of my secrets.”

The younger man realized the significance of his soon-to-be-lover’s words. Raymond was asking him if he was capable of standing beside him, fighting alongside him, of helping him in his continued pursuits. It was an astounding level of trust considering he’d just learned most of this in the last twelve hours.

“So how am I going to be learning all of these new skills? I’m pretty sure they don’t teach tradecraft at Cornell.”

Ray nodded. “I can work with you on most of it although you’ll need to practice with strangers as well and I’ll bring in professional instructors for your physical training. I must admit I would probably be hesitant to push you as hard as you need should I be handling all of it. So what do you think?”

“I think if I have to wait until my ‘training’ is complete to have sex with you I might die of blue-balls first.”

Ray threw back his head and laughed. As his mirth died away he brought Dembe’s hand to his lips, resting it there while his eyes grew hot. “I don’t believe I could wait that long either.”

It was clear that once Raymond made up his mind about something he didn’t do things halfway. They were ensconced in Ray’s California king sized bed and he was already naked and hard. Ray still had on his boxer briefs, black ones that made a very sexy contrast to his light complexion. Dembe couldn’t quite decide where to look or what to do with his hands. It was an embarrassment of riches.

They had been kissing for what felt like _ages_ and every time Dembe tried to reach for Ray’s underwear the other man distracted him. He was only getting the occasional stroke as it was. It was driving him mad. He growled and rolled to his side to face his lover the next time his hand was captured and redirected.

“So eager,” Ray teased.

“I’ve been waiting for this for _years_ already, Ray,” Dembe panted against the other man’s lips. “At least take your damn underwear off so I can see you, touch you. Please.” He added a teasing nip to the older man’s neck.

“Your wish…” Ray trailed off as he rolled to his back to slide the constricting garment away.

Dembe’s eyes immediately went to the newly revealed flesh. As cocks went Raymond’s wasn’t anything spectacular. He’d certainly seen larger ones. It was of average length, shorter than his own, he noted clinically. He thought it might be a bit more in the width department but didn’t really care enough to stop and compare. Instead his hands followed where his eyes led. Before Ray could roll back over to face him he took hold of the older man’s shaft with both hands, running them experimentally over the hard organ as if learning it by touch. He took note of Ray’s reactions as he pumped his fist up and down and played with the full testicles hanging below. It seemed that Ray was closer than he thought because within seconds, he took hold of Dembe’s wrists, stopping his movements. When Dembe looked up to the other man’s face Ray had his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched.

“Will you fuck me?” Dembe leaned up to whisper in Ray’s ear. Every time he fantasized about their first time together that’s what he imagined. He figured it probably had to do with the fact that he’d never done it the other way around but at this point he didn’t really care as long as they both got to cum, preferable soon and together.

Ray opened eyes dilated so wide that there was barely any iris showing. “Come here, neither one of us has the stamina for that right now, and if I don’t cum soon I’m gonna go crazy.” He pulled Dembe until he was laying on top with his legs on either side of Ray’s body. He felt Ray put his hands on his ass as he lined up his cock alongside his lover’s. “There,” Ray grunted, “now doesn’t that feel wonderful?”

Dembe leaned down and ran his tongue along the other man’s lips. Ray opened his mouth and sucked at the teasing organ like he was demonstrating what he wanted to do with Dembe’s cock. The younger man moaned and began to thrust his hips against the body beneath him. He could feel Ray matching his movements, their rhythm almost seamless. Although Dembe didn’t have much to compare it to, he couldn’t imagine sex being much better than this. Both of them were grunting and panting when they weren’t kissing sloppily or licking whatever bit of skin their mouths happened to come across.

“Oh God, I’m almost there. I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Dembe huffed into Ray’s ear, his thrusts becoming erratic.

He felt Ray remove one of his hands from his ass and watched as the older man stuck a couple of fingers in his mouth. He heard himself make the most un-masculine whining noise he’d ever heard and his hips seemed to pick up speed of their own accord.

“I’m gonna make you cum for me, beautiful boy,” Ray said.

Dembe felt Ray’s fingers rub over his hole and his whole body shook with pleasure. The fingers probed and entered gently. Spit wasn’t really great as a lubricant, but Ray went slowly. Dembe was almost frantic with the need to cum. He thrust against Ray hard, felt the other man’s cock slide against his on a sheen of pre-cum and sweat.

“That’s it, baby, come on,” Ray encouraged, moving his fingers in a way that stimulated all the right nerve endings.

He came with a shout, throwing his head back and straining against Ray, thrusting through his climax. Finally, he slumped down on top of his lover, sated for the moment and completely enveloped in a euphoric bubble.

“Just give me a moment and I’ll finish you off,” he panted, clumsily petting the man laying beneath him.

Ray chuckled and wrapped his arms tightly around Dembe’s body, holding him in place. “Missed that, did you?” Dembe reached between them and felt Ray’s cock, already softening.

He lifted his head weakly and looked down into Ray’s face. The expression there made his heart ache with affection. In all his years with this man, he realized now he had never seen him without a mask of some sort. He knew because the way that Raymond was looking at him now was something wholly different to how he’d ever looked at him in the past. He brought his hand up to rest against Ray’s cheek. They seemed to be having an entire conversation without words. _You may not ever say it, but I know that you love me_ , Dembe thought. Because he could not imagine looking at someone like Ray was looking at him and _not_ loving that person. He hoped his expression communicated an equal level of emotion. He thought that it probably did.

“I think we need a shower,” Ray said, wrinkling his nose. “No matter what you read in some erotic story, falling asleep and having semen dry on your skin is _not_ sexy.”

They showered together, spending long minutes just touching and connecting with each other. Dembe was fascinated with the web of smooth scars covering Raymond’s back. He’d seen them before of course and knew that Ray had been badly burned in a fire but feeling them under his hands was a new experience.

“You never told me the story of how you got these,” Dembe said gently, turning his lover so the water could wash the soap on his back away.

“It was one of those times that I lost someone I cared dearly about,” Ray answered, “but I’d prefer not to discuss sad things tonight. Are we clean enough?”

Dembe respected his desire to change the subject. Ray was right, tonight was a celebration and he didn’t really want to mar it with sad memories. “Yup,” he answered, reaching around Raymond to turn off the water.

Back in bed, Ray spooned up behind Dembe and wrapped an arm around the younger man. It was comfortable and warm and Dembe listened to the sound of Ray’s breathing, matched with his, and before he knew it he was asleep.

 

**Part 6**

**Graduation**

**The Cheshire Academy**

**Cheshire, NY**

**May 25, 2002**

It was probably a bad thing that simply doing something as prosaic as attending a high school graduation ceremony felt so foreign to him, Reddington reflected as he let his eyes roam the assembled crowd of excited teenagers, beaming parents and relatives, and bored siblings. But admittedly it did feel nice to do something so normal for a change. There had been a lot of refreshingly normal things in the last few years, along with some decidedly _less_ normal things, his brain reminded him. He took off his hat and used his handkerchief to rub the sweat from his head, decidedly choosing to ignore the fact that there was already less hair up there than last year at this time. Of course the school would decide to hold the ceremony outside.

“Hey, Ray.”

Dembe bounced up to him _(good God I’m sleeping with someone still young enough to bounce)_. Ray told his brain emphatically to shut up.

“Having fun?” He asked, nodding to the young lady who stood awkwardly beside him, both of them wearing identical black robes and mortarboard hats.

“I won’t be having fun until I walk across that stage,” Dembe answered. “Hey, I wanted you to meet April. April, this is my…” The pause was awkward and Ray rolled his eyes. He’d _tried_ to warn the younger man about these things but in his naïve optimism he guessed Dembe hadn’t been listening as closely as he should.

“Raymond Reddington,” Ray smiled winningly and reached for the young lady’s hand. He brought it up to his lips to kiss and could tell she was a bit embarrassed by the gesture. “It is nice to meet you finally. Dembe speaks very highly of you.”

“Thank you. I feel I could say the same about you! Dembe talks about you constantly. He’s just over the moon about you really!” She said, giggling in that way young women had that made you alternately want to squeeze them and strangle them.

“Is he?” Ray asked, but he was looking at Dembe.

The younger man gave him a rather mischievous wink, grabbed April’s hand and took off towards the staging area where the other graduates were gathering. Raymond sighed and began to make his way to his seat.

As he sat watching the parade of speakers and then graduates on the stage, Raymond remembered his own graduation. Was it only 11 years ago? It felt like a lifetime. How incredibly strange was life that things seemed to fall out in just such a way as to give a man exactly what he needs when he needs it? There were days lately when he actually felt redeemed. He wondered if he’d ruined it all by capitulating to Dembe’s desire. But he was too selfish to consider doing the right thing and giving him up.

He watched his young man walk across the stage, shake hands with various stuffy authoritarian figures and collect his diploma. Prayers were said. Hats were thrown. Tears were shed (definitely _not_ by him). And then it was over.

He met Dembe through the crowd. The younger man had already shed his robe and was looking a bit rumpled and hot in his suit.

“Can we go now?” Dembe asked, glancing around behind Ray as if the car might magically appear on the lawn to whisk them away.

“You don’t want to say some final goodbyes or exchange contact information with your fellow graduates?”

Dembe laughed at his teasing. “There are very few people here who I care to keep in touch with and I already know how to get ahold of them. Come on, I’m ready to get out of here.”

Reddington has his reservations about whether or not Dembe _was_ ready but in the past few months he was learning to question less and trust more when it came to the younger man.

“Let’s go then,” he said, throwing his arm around Dembe’s shoulders.

When the apartment door finally snicked shut behind them, Dembe felt a bit lost. His life with Raymond had often felt surreal, like some sort of fairy tale come true. Then the past few weeks had moved them from surreal to extraordinary in the most literal sense of the word. As he stood in the foyer of their expensive New York apartment he reflected on how far he’d come. He was under no illusions. If it hadn’t been for Raymond Reddington he would be dead now. Long dead. He literally owed his life to this man he’d come to love. There was no greater bond or profound debt than that.

“Earth to Dembe.”

Raymond’s voice cut into his thoughts. The older man had already dispensed with his suit coat and tie. Dembe smiled and moved into his space, fitting himself against Raymond and pressing his face into the side of the other man’s neck, wrapping his arms around the solid torso. He felt Raymond’s arms go around him in turn and for a moment they stood there, breathing together.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” Ray said softly, but the tightening of his embrace belied his words.

“If you say that one more time I’m going to kick your ass,” Dembe replied.

Ray chuckled and gave him a final squeeze before releasing him. He followed his lover down the hall to the big master bedroom wondering if it was too soon to wonder if it might become _their_ bedroom. The older man didn’t seem the least bit surprised. He just continued to disrobe, placing each item of clothing in its designated spot. Dembe enjoyed watching the precise economical movements. It wasn’t until he was down to his under shirt and a pair boxer briefs that his eyes caught the younger man’s.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?”

“Nope, just enjoying the view,” Dembe answered.

“Come here,” Ray said.

The hairs on the back of Dembe’s neck stood up when he heard the note growl in Ray’s voice. He walked over and stopped in front of his lover.

“Did I tell you today how proud I am of you?”

Dembe felt himself flush at the praise. “Oh, probably about a dozen times.”

“Well I am.” Raymond began working on removing his clothing. When Dembe tried to reach up and undo his shirt buttons while Ray was neatly laying his jacket across a chair the older man stopped him with a look. “But I haven’t given you your graduation present yet.”

Dembe’s eyebrows raised in question.

Instead of answering his silent question though, Raymond simply continued to undress him until he was standing naked in the bedroom, Ray still in his underwear.

“Lay on the bed facedown. I’ll be along in a moment,” Ray said, giving him a heated look as he disappeared into the bathroom.

As Dembe lay waiting he felt his cock stir in anticipation. _Finally_ , Ray was going to fuck him. It seemed to take the older man a long time to do whatever it was he was doing in there. He closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling the cool air currents moving over his back and ass, on the feel of the soft sheets rubbing against his half-hard cock. He didn’t even open them when he felt the bed dip and Ray’s naked thighs straddle his hips. But he did smile.

He raised his hips slightly in invitation and heard his lover’s dark chuckle. Then Ray’s warm hands were caressing his ass, massaging it really, but not touching him where he most wanted to be touched. There was a soft noise of a bottle opening and he cracked his eyes lazily. In his peripheral vision he could see Ray rubbing his hands together, then the smell of massage oil reached his nose.

He sighed as the older man’s hands began to rub his shoulders and down his back. Ray took his time, working on each muscle group until Dembe felt like all of his bones had melted into the mattress. He was so relaxed he almost forgot about his low-level arousal and jumped a bit when he felt a finger run over his hole.

“Okay?” Ray asked, moving his finger away.

“Yeah,” he mumbled contentedly into the pillow.

That earned him another chuckle and the return of the teasing digit. Ray played there for a while, gently massaging his entrance and occasionally dipping a finger inside. If he hadn’t been so blissed out by the massage he might have gone mad from the draw-out foreplay.

“Turn over.” Ray’s voice was soft but there was a note of command there too that sparked something law in Dembe’s belly.

Lazily, he turned over between the older man’s thighs. Ray immediately began to repeat his intimate massage starting with Dembe’s upper arms and moving down his chest, skipping his cock (much to its owner’s dismay) and working on his legs as well. When the older man reached Dembe’s feet and finished with a soft kiss to his arch he ran his oiled hands back up the younger man’s legs, dipping his head to take his hard shaft into his mouth. Dembe hissed his appreciation and let his hands come up to cradle his lover’s head as he worked. He liked the feeling of his cock moving in and out of his lover’s mouth, enjoyed petting his soft hair. Much sooner than he would have liked, Ray was sitting up again and straddling Dembe’s waist.

He felt Ray’s hand stroke him once, twice and before he knew what was happening the older man sank down onto him.

Dembe’s breath caught in surprise and he was able to get nothing more than a shocked hiss past his lips before his lover was bending down to kiss him. They kissed for a long time and Dembe gradually felt Ray’s muscles begin to relax around him.

When the older man pulled away he rested his forehead against his young lover’s, panting.

“Happy graduation,” Ray said, and then he began to move.

“Oh Jesus.”

“I highly doubt Jesus as anything to do with it,” Ray answered, breathing heavily, keeping his rhythm.

“If you’re coherent enough to make jokes, I think we’re doing this wrong,” Dembe answered and was quite proud that he could put together more than two words.

Ray laughed and gave a little twist of his hips that had Dembe hissing again. They moved together, changing the angle until Ray was able to feel Dembe’s cock head against his prostate on every down-stroke.

“Oh fuck, oh yeah, that’s it,” Ray huffed, and Dembe reached up to kiss and lick at the older man’s neck and shoulders. He was close but he wanted Ray to cum first. Reaching between them, he took Ray’s cock in his fist and stroked him in time to their thrusts. They were both grunting and swearing and straining against each other and Dembe felt like he couldn’t possible get any closer to another human being than he was right at that moment.

When Ray began to cum he held Dembe’s head between his hands, locking their gazes together, and squeezed Dembe’s cock with his internal muscles, pushing the younger man over the edge with him. Dembe’s vision greyed out a bit and he felt as if he was having some sort of weird out-of-body experience.

As they came down, Ray slumped forward on top of him, breathing hard and burying his face in the younger man’s sweaty neck. Dembe wrapped his arms around him and they clung to each other for long moments. As the sweat began to dry on their bodies and the room turned a bit too cool to be naked in comfortably, Ray shifted.

“Not yet,” Dembe said, gripping him tighter, surprised to feel a lump forming in his throat.

“Okay,” Ray said softly, settling once more.

“We’re breathing together,” Dembe whispered, feeling their matched inhalations somewhere between his heart and his soul. Ray’s only response was to settle more firmly on top of him.

Dembe wanted to say the words. For most of his life he had felt the opposite of loved and his memories of his family were so distant he could not recall if his mother or father, brothers or sisters, had ever said the words to him. Despite Raymond’s opinion of his relative naiveté he _knew_. And he wished more than anything that someday he would be able to say the words and have them believed. But he also knew that he wanted to _hear_ the words. He wanted it like a drowning man wants to breathe. And he would not have Raymond say them out of obligation. For now the words would remain un-voiced between them. He could be patient. He had been patient 19 years. So he would let the words seep out from between other harmless utterances and actions. It wasn’t so urgent now that he _knew._

**THE END**


End file.
